by Jes Drew
I glance around at my loyal family and friends. Holly and Oto are in a corner. Ata is sitting in a chair in another corner. Joseph is sitting in the desk chair. Christopher and Mr. Williams are standing as near to the television as possible without getting in anyone else’ way. Uncle Gerald, Aunt Donna, Chase, and Mary-Ann are sitting on one of the two beds. Mom, Dad, and I are sitting on the other.
We’re all together. We’re all safe.
For now.
Acknowledgments:
If you've heard it once, you've heard it a thousand times: sequels are hard (though, this one was actually fairly easy,). Still, these are some of the people who helped me write mine. Emily Dickinson with her beautiful poetry. The pastor's and musicians whose messages I've both consciously and subconsciously absorbed into my stories. My friends who may not have helped much with the actual writing of this book, but I hope to guilt-trip into reading it. And, of course, my family: my brothers for mostly behaving while I was trying to write, my grandparents and uncle's family who are proud of my being an author and buy the books I don't give them, my aunt for helping me edit this thing, my sister (aka Nicki Chapelway) for helping me brainstorm and listening to me retell the same stories all the time (but then again, I do the same for her- authors)- also, braving drafts- my mom for various things, and my dad for not only being the first to read through this, but also helping me publish this thing. Above all, though, I thank the Lord Jesus Christ, Who saw fit to shape my life just right to help me shape my stories.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jes Drew has, for some unknown reason, always wanted to go on the run. But since she couldn't, sending Emily off was the next best thing. This story took a bit longer to write because she had to put it down for a while to focus a certain superhero's story. Now a high school graduate, she's (Jes, not Charisa) finally getting her game face back on and publishing it. Jes lives with her mom, dad, younger sister, four (yes, four) younger brothers, a German shepherd named Rylie and a teddy bear puppy named Zoey. She is the author of The Ninja and Hunter trilogy, The Howling Twenties, Kristian Clark, and Castaways. Besides writing Jes also enjoys drawing, reading, and writing (also, daydreaming about her stories). Sometimes she even writes. You can contact her at-http://pausefortales.blogspot.com
Also Available (thankfully):
The Ninja and Hunter trilogy, book one: The Time I Saved the Day
The Ninja and Hunter trilogy, book two: The Time I Saved a Damsel in Distress
The Ninja and Hunter trilogy, book three: The Time I Saved the World
The Howling Twenties trilogy, book one: Wolf Claw
The Howling Twenties trilogy, book two: Wolf Curse
The Howling Twenties trilogy, book three: Wolf Cure
Kristian Clark and the Agency Trap, book one: The Bachelor Missions
Kristian Clark and the Agency Trap, book two: In the Rogue
The Castaways trilogy, book one: Castaways
Coming Soon (Lord willing):
The Castaways trilogy, book three: Targets
Kristian Clark and the American Agenda, book one: Agents Adam and Eve
You may also enjoy
My Adventures in Amar
by Nicki Chapelway:
Book One: A Week of Werewolves, Faeries, and Fancy Dresses
Book Two: A Time of Tribulation, Pirates, and Lost Princesses
Excerpt from Castaways, Book Three:
Targets
Prologue
I charge into the house that, sometime during my European escapade, became home in my mind. The rest of my family follows close behind.
“The Masters’ henchmen didn’t trash it up too badly,” I say optimistically- imagine that, I’m being optimistic!
Chase and Mary-Ann dance around the foyer before Chase suddenly stops.
“I’m going to get to sleep in my own bed tonight!” he cries.
Mary-Ann claps her hands together eagerly. “I’m going to get to sleep in my own bed too!”
“And I’m going to finally enjoy some peace and quiet,” Grandmother says, wearily rubbing her temples.
Peace and quiet. I think we could all use some peace and quiet. Especially peace…
Especially since my summer vacation has been fairly traumatic so far.
A mental list of all the adventures I’ve had so far this summer:
(1) Surviving a shipwreck;
(2) Being a castaway;
(3) Confronting megalomaniacs (known as the Masters- go figure, right?) to rescue a friend and his sister from their perverted justice;
(4) Running through Europe to escape the Masters;
5) Breaking into the Masters’ base of operations- twice!
(6) Being confronted by the Masters who wanted to remove some incriminating data from us in return for our captured families;
(7) The trip back home- which included every song Chase and Mary-Ann (and Oto) ever learned;
Yeah, I’m definitely in need of some peace.
“We still have that court case to look forward too,” Mom says.
Everyone glares at her.
“But, hey, at least the Masters are behind bars where they belong,” she adds quickly.
“I don't want to do no stupid court case,” Chase mutters.
Mary-Ann huffs. “Me neither.”
Aunt Donna wraps her arms around both of them and squeezes gently. “I'll buy you a kitten when we're through.”
They grin at each other eagerly.
And I smile. Yeah, it’s nice to be together again and feel safe…
If only I could manage to muster the feeling. Sadly, after everything I’ve been through this summer, I don’t know if I could ever feel safe again. It’s a good thing that feeling safe and being safe are two different things… right?
Of course I’m right. The Masters are behind bars, and there’s nothing they can do to us from there. I think.
I hope.
Excerpt from The Ninja and Hunter series, Book One:
The Time I Saved the Day
Prologue
When I open my eyes again, my vision is cloudy. I can’t tell where I am or even remember how I got here.
I’m sitting in something; I think it’s a metal chair. I feel like I’m suffocating and begin to panic, but then I remember that I’m wearing my ski mask. My arms feel tied down to the arms of the chair, though I can’t tell if they really are or not. My legs feel knotted together.
I raise my head, causing a wave of nausea to wash over me. I wait for it to fade away before attempting to move again.
Finally, my vision clears, though there isn’t much to see. Wherever I am, it has really bad lighting.
I painfully twist my head to the left- nothing but darkness. I twist my head to the right- it’s the same there. The movement causes a new wave of nausea to wash over me.
What has happened to me? It can’t be a hangover- I’ve never touched alcohol in my life. Or maybe I have. I can’t remember.
What kind of mess have I gotten myself into? How in the world am I going to get myself out of it? And could somebody please tell me how I even got myself into it?!
From Chapter Three:
I grab a can of coke and sip it as I skim through one of my old comics, looking for an interesting story to reread. I accidentally cut my finger on one of the pages and quickly pull my finger away. Then right before my eyes, the freshly cut skin fuses back together, good as new.
Huh?
Maybe the cut was never there in the first place. But there are a few drops of blood remaining on my finger, proving that the cut existed...
The fever must have come back, and I’m delirious. That’s the only solution.
I rush to the phone to call my parents. However, in my hurry I trip over my shoes which I had left out. My shin rams into the foyer bench. I cringe, that’s going to leave a mark. I sit down on the said bench and pull up my pant leg. Sure enough, a bruise is already forming. Then, it suddenly fades.
I stare at my leg for a f
ew more moments. What is going on? This wasn’t happening Thursday when I burned myself in HomeEc. I still have that scar, don’t I?
I check the tips of the three middle fingers on my left hand. It’s gone.
Then I start freaking out. Until I realize I’m acting like someone who had gotten a horrible wound, but all that had happened to me was minor hurts mysteriously healing. That thought gets me laughing hysterically.
When that’s over, I return to my comic book and can of coke.
I’m reading some superhero’s origin when an absurd idea hits me: what if I’m developing super powers? That would explain those weird happenings and my really quick recoveries. It might also explain the freaky pain I experienced last night. I mean, acquiring super powers can’t be easy.
Maybe I should test myself for super powers. I know it’s crazy, but I don’t have anything else to do.
I begin by closing my eyes and thinking happy thoughts, but upon opening my eyes, I find that I have yet to defy gravity. Then I flap my arms, but I don’t take off. Apparently, I’m not meant to fly. Phooey.
Next, I use my stopwatch to see how fast I can run through the entire house. I start running as fast as I usually do, but then I realize that I can push myself to go faster. I do, and I go zooming through the house- it’s like I have just unlocked some secret store of stamina inside of me. Last time, it took me twenty-one seconds (we don’t have any stairs, but our main floor is huge). This time it takes exactly three seconds. Maybe I really do have super powers.
Then I test my strength by attempting to lift our ultra-heavy couch. I’ve never been able to lift it before. As I try to lift up the sofa, I realize that, like when I was running, I’m not using all my strength. Yet, I can’t seem to use it. I focus, and then I find that I can lift it- easily. And I do more than lift it; I hold it up for thirty seconds just because I can. I’m not even tired when I put it down. This is so exciting!
I test my wall climbing skills by running toward the wall, jumping, and hoping I stick. Turns out, I don’t stick to walls. I do, however, jump really, really high. Thankfully, my body is only sore for a moment, and then I feel just fine. I can definitely get used to this whole regenerating health thing.
Next, I test my mental powers, but no matter how long I focus on that dish towel, it doesn’t move. Then I attempt to fry it with my eyes, but that doesn’t work either.
After that, I test my agility. I somersault and cartwheel with unnatural ease, but I’m already pretty good at somersaults and cartwheels, so that doesn’t prove much. Instead, I attempt a backward flip, something I have never been able to do before. I do it! Now I’m sure I have super powers.
I sit down as this new information settles in my mind. I have super powers! But how did I get them? I didn’t have them on Thursday. What unusual thing has happened since then? I stood up for Carl; was beat by and beat Kyle; helped Mrs. Walters; drank horrible tea; slept over at Olivia’s; and rescued Charlie- boy, I’ve had a busy weekend. However, none of that seemed like the thing that would bestow unnatural skills. Except, maybe, that tea- that stuff could definitely cause mutations.
The tea! That has to be it. What else could morph my genes or do whatever it was that happened to me. Knowing Mrs. Walters, it was probably tea leaves from a genetically engineered, hybrid plant, what with her being a retired botanist and all. Also, I didn’t start feeling that horrible pain until after drinking that tea- that pain was probably my body being mutated. The mutating might also explain my empty stomach, because one’s body transforming would take a lot of energy. It also might explain my fever; after all, getting one’s genetic code rewritten can not be easy on one’s poor body.
What am I to do with my new powers? Duh, I’ll be a superhero!
Excerpt from The Howling Twenties, Book One:
Wolf Claw
Prologue
When I was seven years old, I was scarred for life- literally.
“Is Mommy coming home today?” I asked.
Father looked up from his desk. Around us was our home library; an impressive collection of every faerie story and legend on paper since the dawn of time to that fateful year, 1916- or at least so it seemed to my seven year-old mind. “I’m sorry, Janie,” he said. “But no. She’s a very busy woman, you know.”
I frowned. Mommy had gone off to work at her mysterious job once I turned four, and though she visited often, she never seemed to be around.
Now she’s never around.
Anyway, still being a child, I quickly forgot the cause of my frown and ran off to find something to amuse myself. What I found was my big brother, Peter Thomas, who was nine at the time (the last year he went by his full name).
“Do you want to come outside and play with me?” I asked eagerly, already knowing what the answer would be. We were each others' only playmates, after all.
“Sure,” he had answered, blowing the auburn- the color we both shared- hair out of his eyes. “Just got to feed the dogs first.”
I nodded eagerly before running out the door.
Our home lies in a small clearing in the middle of a large forest, without so much as a road to connect us to society. At the time, I didn’t even know there was such a thing as society. I was content simply to explore the part of the woods adjacent to our clearing, looking for flowers to make a bouquet for Mommy- for whenever she returned. Indeed, that’s what I found myself doing that particular evening.
My eyes fell on a flower, its color a cross between purple and silver- the exact same shade of my eyes (and Mommy’s and Thomas’). Intrigued, I leaned over and picked it, fingering its petals.
Then I heard a growl.
I looked up and found a massive wolf standing on its hind legs, towering over me. Its fur was black as midnight, and its eerily human eyes locked on mine. I attempted to scream, but my voice deserted me. As did my feet, which sent me toppling backwards.
The wolf dropped down on all fours and then stretched one claw toward me, one nail slashing the skin just to the left of my left eye.
“Get away from her!” Thomas screamed somewhere behind me, and the wolf seemed to smile. Then it obeyed Thomas and ran off with surprising speed.
Stunned, I reached up to feel my face, and felt the warmth of blood. Distantly, I felt a sting, but I was more concerned with the strange, hazy images dancing before my eyes.
Thomas reached my side and asked a million questions at once, but I couldn’t focus. Instead, I lifted my small hand and studied it through my hallucinations: the forest moving around me, the sounds of distant howling, and eyes both wolfish and human watching my every move. Strangest of all, though, were the hallucinations surrounding my own hand.
“Wolf claw,” I whispered.
From Chapter Three
“Miss?” someone calls. “Miss, are you all right?”
I open my eyes and find myself lying on the forest floor. Then I roll over and find myself looking up at a boy about Thomas’ age, but who is most definitely not Thomas. This boy is slightly taller and leaner than my robust brother, and instead of auburn hair and blue eyes, this boy has dirty blonde hair and green eyes. Also, while my brother (and consequently I) wear mostly plaid shirts and thick trousers, this boy wears a simple light green outfit and a strange knitted hat.
My jaw drops. Besides Father, Thomas, and Uncle Vincent- and none of them count anyway- this is the first boy I’ve ever seen. And he is some specimen. One could even say that he was air-tight.
“Miss?”
I remember myself (good looking or not, he is a potential threat- probably more so because of his good looks), grab my hatchet, and aim it at the boy. “What do you want?”
He puts his hands in the air. “I don’t mean you any harm, Miss, but you seemed like you needed help.”
Good enough for me. I put my hatchet down and sit up. “I’m searching for my brother. Have you seen him? He looks a rather lot like me, only slightly taller- I think I might catch up to him, but he doesn’t agree- and with shorte
r hair- much, much shorter, though still kind of shaggy. Have you seen him?”
“I’m afraid not.” The boy offers me his hand.
I take it and he effortlessly pulls me up and I try to control my heart at its frantic panic over the touch.
“I’m Amos Hood, by the way,” he adds, removing his strange hat.
“Jane Delane.” My eyes fall on the strangely shaped leather on his back with a hilt protruding from it. A sword in a sheath? “What are you doing here?”
“Hunting.”
Of course; it seems to be hunting season around here. “Hunting for what?” Could he and Thomas be hunting for the same thing?
Or maybe for each other.
I back away slightly.
“Doesn’t matter,” Amos answers. “Do you live near here?”
“Possibly.”
“I must escort you home then. These woods aren’t safe right now, especially at night.”
“I have to find my brother.”
“I’ll look for him, but you need to go home before dark.”
I narrow my eyes. “What are you hunting exactly? It does matter.”
He shakes his head.“You wouldn’t believe me.”
“Try me.” I cross my arms and plant my feet to show him I'm not going anywhere until he tells me what's going on.
Amos studies me for a long moment before answering. “A werewolf.”
Excerpt from Kristian Clark and the Agency Trap, Book One:
The Bachelor Missions
